The Sickness from the Sea
by Starslug
Summary: The team is sent to the Orkney Islands, expecting a well-earned rest. But a mysterious sickness is killing the islands horses, and they will soon discover that this is no ordinary disease: sinister things are afoot on the island. Stand-alone, "Team Atlantis-esque" adventure. Now complete and nutritious.
1. Prologue

_I have a confession to make: I loved Atlantis 2: Milo's Return. Although nothing like the first movie in terms of quality, it was still a fun piece of animation, and expanded on the personalities of the team rather nicely. If the idea for a "Team Atlantis" spinoff had gone ahead, I can safely say that I'd be watching right now (possibly in my underpants) like the disgusting woman-child I am. The idea of a sort of Scooby Doo/Hellboy/Disney mash-up is just awesome, and after watching Atlantis 2, I knew I had to have a shot at writing a Team Atlantis-esque story, using one of my favorite mythical monsters. _

_I tried to keep the feel of the original movies, albeit with a touch more darkness in places. There is some gore, some gross moments, and a bit of death. (In other words, nothing that wasn't in the original.) There is also no shipping beyond some mild Milo/Kida moments, so you'll have to go elsewhere if you're looking for some hot Vinny on Mole action... _

_So please, enjoy, and don't be afraid to review. I won't bite/have a nervous breakdown if given some constructive criticism. These characters are all awesome, and I want to do them all justice. So please, tell me if I screw up._

**Prologue**

The sea was lashing against the steep, jagged cliffs, far in the distance, marking the faintest roaring in Mavis' ears. Quietly, shifting her weight carefully across the creaking floorboards of the old house, she crept towards the stairs, stopping for a moment to peek through the door to the bedroom. Inside, the two children slept softly in their little beds, Alistair's red hair peeking from the gap between blankets and pillow, Beth a small lump cocooned in the covers. Mavis smiled slightly at them, then slipped their door shut, and quietly made her way down the stairs.

The door of the great old house creaked, startling loud in the darkness, as she eased it open. Outside, a scant few stars gleamed through a thick blanket of cloud, and the ocean roared louder. Holding her lantern in front of her, Mavis began to walk down the rocky path that led to the stables, her lamp's faint glow doing little to dispel the warm, damp mist that had rolled in from the sea again. The sweet salt tang of the sea carried with it a strange undercurrent, she noticed. A faint, sour smell that hit her in the back of the throat. She wrinkled her nose, and quickened her pace.

The stable was dark and quiet, a single faint light gleaming from one of the stalls. From within came the sound of deep, laboured breathing. Mavis peered over the top of the stable door. Inside lay a large chestnut horse, its lithe limbs stretched out stiffly on the straw, its flank rising and falling in a difficult, jerky motion. In the deep straw, beside the sickly horse, her husband Thomas sat, one hand between the creatures ears, gently rubbing its ears.

"How is he?"

Thomas looked up from his patient.

"He's holding on. He'll make it to the morning, I think."

Mavis pushed the stable door open and slid through. The horse's ears flickered a touch as she settled into the straw beside her husband.

"And the others?" She asked.

"All better than this one, at least."

Mavis sighed slightly, peering down at the horse's crusted eyes.

"I just hope this doctor from overseas knows what he's doing."

She gently patted the horse's damp neck, the sour smell of decay still clinging to the back of her throat.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The hull of the little boat sliced through the sparkling water, peppering Milo's face with flecks of spray. Kida stood beside him, her long white hair whipping in the wind, her hands eagerly grasping the railings, her face lit with a huge smile. At her feet, looking every bit as pleased, sat Obby, his huge tongue lolling out to taste the breeze.

Milo shifted his grip on the rails, his gaze moving from Kida and Obby to the little island approaching in the misty distance, his thoughts shifting gear as well. If anyone had told him, when he had been toiling away in the bowels of the Smithsonian, that he would find himself here, soaking up the sun with a beautiful Atlantean queen by his side, he would have laughed at them. Then he would have quietly shuffled away to let the psychiatrists do their work. Even after all this time, the fact that someone as beautiful and powerful and wonderful as Kida would even look twice at him seemed far less credible than the hectic events that had brought them together. Tentatively, he slid his hand over the salt-slick rail, and slipped his fingers over Kida's. She smiled, and tore her gaze from the ocean.

"You were right. It is more beautiful in the summer."

"I'm just glad you're finally getting to see the surface world without…y'know…monsters."

"Oh Milo, all of the surface world is wonderful and new to me. Although the lack of mortal danger is refreshing."

"Well, I think you've earned a bit of a break, after the last few weeks. We all have. A few days on the Orkney Islands will do us good."

Kida leaned over the rails, relishing the sweet sea air, and the view of the little island growing ever larger in the distance.

"It looks like we're nearly there."

Milo squeezed Kida's hand, and released it.

"I suppose we'd better go join the rest of them then."

He led the way, across the steely deck. Mr Whitmore had taken them as far as the mainland by plane. All that was left now was to make the short hope across to Stronsay island by sea. Luckily, a boat went between the two once a week.

Milo and Kida clanked down the stairs to the main cabin. The rest of the crew had already assembled around the table. Audrey was leant back in her chair rocking idly, gazing out of the porthole. Vinny, sat across from the table, idly chewed the match that always seemed to poke out of his mouth. Mole was leant over a small pile of dust, scrutinising it with his goggles and muttering under his breath. Obby scuttled from Milo's side and sat expectantly under Mole's chair, knowing a good source of tasty rocks when he smelled them.

At the end of the table, Doctor Sweet looked up at the two newcomers.

"Y'all didn't all have to tag along, you know." He said with a smile. "I guess you just couldn't get enough of me, could you?"

Audrey smirked.

"Don't flatter yourself doc. I just want a chance to go somewhere where we're not fish-food."

"Yeah, we're not ones to turn down free travel." Vinny said. "Although do us a favour: next time, try and study an epidemic somewhere warmer. Like, the Bahamas. Or Barbados. I could get used to Barbados. Any one of those places where you get those palm trees. Oh, and the drinks served in the little fruits."

Mole looked up from his dust, a wide smile on his face.

"Ze Orkney Islands have some of ze finest soils in ze Northern Hemisphere!" A dreamy look came over his face. "Ah, ze limestones, ze siltstones, ze erosion features! How could any man resist?"

Sweet shook his head with a faint smile.

"Well, you all have fun. Can't say it'll be much of a holiday for me, though. From what I hear, the local livestock are dropping like flies, and I intend to find out why. I may not be an expert on farm animals, but I know a thing or two about disease, and if Mr Whitmore thinks I can be a help, who am I to argue?"

Kida sat down on the edge of the table.

"I am very grateful to be seeing some more of the surface world. Even if it is under these sad circumstances."

"Ah, you give me five minutes over there, and that disease won't know what hit it."

The ship began to slow, taking on the familiar shuddering motion of a boat about to land. Sweet gathered up his medical bag, and climbed to his feet.

"So, everyone ready for Stronsey?"

Vinny stretched, and stood up.

"Yeah. Question is, is Stronsey ready for us?"

* * *

Mavis crunched across the gravel beach, making her way to the small grey boat that bobbed in the blue-green waves. The summer sun had dispelled the night's fog, and the air was unseasonably warm and still. Swiftly, she made her way down to the group gathered on the shore.

Mavis had been forewarned that the expert overseas doctor would be bringing friends: she had spent the evening preparing a room for that very reason. She had also been warned that these friends were somewhat…unconventional. She had been prepared, she'd thought, for a little strangeness, if these strangers could help her family. Now, looking at the group assembled before her, she wasn't so sure.

The most normal looking of them were the muscular, dark skinned man who stood a head taller than the rest of the group, and the skinny young man with thick round glasses and a nervous smile. He looked in good need of some of her home-made stew, she decided. There was also a young girl, no older than her teens, dressed in baggy overalls and a floppy cap, who aside from her slightly unfeminine clothing, would not have drawn too many stares. She would have to give the poor girl a dress to borrow. Then there was the man with the black pudding-bowl haircut, a thick moustache, and some sort of plate armour strapped over his baggy black sweater, and the short little man, almost as wide as he was tall, who appeared to be wearing a lamp on his head. Finally, there was the young woman with hair as white as Mavis' grandmothers, a large crystal hung around her neck, and a tattoo of an almost luminous blue marring her pretty face, poor thing. At her feet, scratching itself with one of…it had six paws, Mavis noted with a jolt of surprise, sat a frightful creature with a gaping mouth and hairless purple skin. Mentally steeling herself, Mavis gave a slightly strained smile, and cleared her throat.

"Welcome to Stronsay island. I trust that you are Doctor Sweet and guests?"

The dark skinned man stepped forwards, extending a hand.

"And you must be Mavis Murrain." He grasped her hand in a bone-crushing handshake. "I hope I can help you with your problem, and that my friends here don't make any more for you."

Mavis retrieved her slightly crushed hand and rubbed it as discreetly as she could. As she did so, the short, smelly little man shuffled forwards.

"Gaetan Moliere at your service, mademoiselle." To Mavis' horror, he proceeded to seize her hand in his grubby paws, and plant a kiss on it. Mercifully, the girl in the overalls yanked him away by his collar before he could reach her elbow.

"Mole! Keep your mouth to yourself! You'll give someone rabies! …Sorry about him."

"That's quite alright dear." Mavis said, surreptitiously wiping the saliva off, and eyeing the rest of the rabble warily. "You and your…charming friends must all be tired after your journey from the mainland. Please, follow me. I'll show you to the farmhouse."

She led them up the sandy beach, up a steep path that wound across the face of craggy, wave-washed cliffs, before finally leading out onto flat ground. The top of the cliff was a great expanse of sparse, wiry grass, the tough sort that eked out a life clinging to the coasts, interspersed here and there with heather and sweet sea-lavender, filling the warm air with the intermingled scents of flowers and brine. She led her guests onwards, over the rolling plains, going slower than usual to let them take in the views. She led them downwards from the lofty cliffs, still within the sound and smell of the ocean, splashing through a shallow rivulet as they went, before finally reaching the door to the farmhouse.

"I'll show you to your room."

A huge, warm hand rested gently on her shoulder.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather get at it straight away." Said Doctor Sweet. "I want to see what we're dealing with."

"Alright. I'll take you down to the stables, if you're ready. The children will get your friends settled."

The white-haired girl pushed her way out of the throng.

"If it wouldn't be a distraction, could I come with you? I have never seen these "horse" creatures before."

"Oh, so you're from the city, dear?"

"Why, yes!"

Doctor Sweet smiled.

"Well, it's fine with me if you tag along. The more the merrier. Milo? You coming too?"

Vinny raised an eyebrow.

"Of course he's coming. It's like they're joined at the hip. Where she goes, he goes."

"Hey! We do things apart! We do things apart all the time."

Kida looked back over her shoulder.

"So. Are you coming Milo?"

"…Yes."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The stables were dark and warm, filled with the scents of straw, and the musk of horses. The smell was sweet and unfamiliar to Kida, as she peered over the stable door at the huge animal within.

"What amazing creatures!" She said, extending a hand to touch its muzzle. The horse explored her palm with its rubbery lips, searching for any hidden treats.

"Yes. Amazing." Said Milo, patting it on the neck. He had seen so many strange creatures in Atlantis: lava dogs like Obby, with their silicon-reinforced skin and rock-crushing teeth, delicate flying creatures with wings made of crystalline slivers, creatures ranging in size from the vast lava whales down to tiny, phosphorescent flies. Now, it seemed so strange to be back on the surface, and for Kida to be the one staring in wonder.

The horse stopped its exploration of Kida's hand, lowered its head, and gave a low, soft cough.

"What an unusual cry."

"What? No, that's not what they sound like normally. This one's just sick."

Kida frowned a little, looking quizzically at the creature.

"This world is so strange. It has so many wonders…and yet up here, people and animals suffer and weaken, without being injured or old."

"You don't have disease in Atlantis?"

"We have suffering, yes. We have accidents beyond the power of the crystal to heal, and once one has become old, no force can turn back time. But not this. The power of the crystal infuses us, and sustains us. I have never seen this sort of thing before."

There was silence for a moment. It dawned in Milo that it was true: he had never seen any form of contagious illness in Atlantis. Given that he had brought a party of unwashed mercenaries from all corners of the globe, and led them straight to an isolated civilization, it was probably a very good thing.

"We cope." He said, after a while. "We're getting better all the time. Why, I'm sure old Sweet will have these horses back on their feet in no time."

There was an explosive whinny from one of the far stables, and the sound of Sweet's voice.

"Whoa there! It's just a thermometer! Easy now!"

"…On second thoughts, Kida, perhaps we should get back to the farmhouse. It's getting late."

She nodded, and walked with him to the door. Darkness had fallen, and to his surprise, a thick, wet fog had rolled in from the ocean. It clung to his skin, hot and damp, bringing a dirty, itchy feeling. From the look on Kida's face she felt the same. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and headed for the glowing lights of the farmhouse.

Around them, the ocean moaned low, crashing fitfully against the base of the cliff. Milo walked cautiously, always peering through to fog to check where his feet were landing.

"This mist smells strange." Kida's voice cut through the moaning waves. Milo sniffed the air. Indeed, the fog did smell strange. It didn't carry with it the fresh smell of the sea, nor the reek of rotting seaweed, but a different, pungent odour. It smelt of rot, of something that had died long ago and bloated in the sun. Milo wrinkled his nose.

"Oh. My gosh, that's strong. Perhaps a sheep died upwind or something?"

"Perhaps. …What are these sheep?"

"…I'll explain it later."

They had reached the old farmhouse by this point, the lights driving off the fog. The door was latched, and Milo gratefully opened it, him and Kida escaping from the stinking mist. Instead, the inside of the cottage was filled with the smell of meat and onions.

Mavis appeared from the kitchen, a bowl of potatoes in her hands.

"Ah, you're back. Please forgive us for starting without you. Will the doctor be joining us?"

"Er, not for a while, I don't think." Said Milo. "He seemed a little busy."

"I'll put some aside for him and Thomas. As for you two, you must be starving. Come on in."

Milo gratefully let Kida and himself be led to the table, and served steaming bowls of stew. Despite growing to love Atlantean food, and almost knowing all the correct ways to stab it before it escaped the plate, he had to admit he missed surface food. It was a joy to be eating something that was neither live, nor boiled in lard until the last vitamin had expired.

Across the table from them sat a little boy, nestled between Vinny and his sister . He had finished his bowl, and looking left and right to make sure his mother wasn't looking, lowered the bowl of leftovers down to Obby. The lava dog licked the bowl clean with his huge pink tongue, and with one deft moment, flicked the bowl out of the boy's grasp, crunching and swallowing it within seconds. The boy's eyes widened.

"Er, he's a Ghanan giant chameleon." Milo lied, through a mouthful of potatoes. "They eat pretty much everything." The boy quickly withdrew his hands. "Oh, but don't worry. He's well-trained. …Mostly."

The little girl reached down and patted Obby on the head, and looked up at Kida in vague wonderment, before looking back down at her stew and moving it around the plate. After a few more moments of poking, she peeked up again shyly, before quickly glancing back.

"Are you alright, child? Is there something you wish to say?"

She jolted, and glanced up a little nervously, through a curtain of wispy dark hair.

"Well… I don't know whether Alistair's just lying again. But…but he said he heard your friends saying that you…that you were a princess. …Are you a princess?"

Kida leant forward across the table a little.

"No, I am not a princess."

"I knew you were lying!" The girl glowered at her brother, who was in the act of slipping Obby his fork.

"I used to be one, for many years. Now I am the queen of my people."

The girl's eyes widened, hear mouth falling open a fraction.

"You are a princess! …Queen, I mean." A huge smile lit her face. "What's it like? Do you have a crown? A big carriage with horses and goldy bits? Big poofy dresses?" She stretched her arms wide, miming and appropriate level of poofiness.

"I have my formal attire, yes child. It is not greatly "poofy", however. We do not have horse-creatures where I come from, but for years, our royal family has raised many fine Wegenoks to pull our chariots." Kida noticed the expression of confusion on the girl's face. "You do not have Wegenoks? They are fine creatures. They have great strength in all twelve of their legs, and the harnesses can be easily attached to their carapace-spines."

The girl managed to stifle her mildly horrified expression, and struck out for more reliable waters, pointing a nubby finger at Milo.

"Is he your prince?"

"He is my Royal Consort and the man I love, yes."

Milo blushed, curling over his bowl of stew in the hopes that it would hide his face. The little girl did not notice, and continued her line of questioning.

"Did he rescue you from a dragon like a proper prince?"

"…No, no, no. Nothing like that." Milo squeaked.

Vinny looked up from his empty bowl.

"Eh Milo, don't run yourself down. You zapped a load of guys with a big stone shark, you killed a guy with a balloon propeller, then you set off a volcano. I think that counts."

"I..I'm just happy that I'm with Kida." Milo stammered.

"It'd count for me, if I was a princess." Vinny mused.

They were interrupted by Mavis backing into the room with a steaming tray. Alistair hurriedly withdrew the placemat he was in the act of feeding to Obby, and hid it behind his back.

"Now, I don't normally make pudding, but then again, I don't normally have guests." She said with a slightly weary smile. "Alistair? Where's your bowl?"

"…I washed it up already."

"Oh, good boy. Now, who's for pudding? Milo?"

"Oh, yes please, Mrs Murrain."

"He's a proper prince, mummy!"

Mavis looked around at her daughter.

"What makes you say that, Beth?"

"He killed a man!" Beth chirped, with a cheery grin.

"It was an accident! I mean, well, he was coming for me, and it was all a blur, and suddenly his head was in the propeller, and it went smoosh! And he wasn't really a man by that point, on account of the stabbing!" Milo looked up into Mavis' horrified face. He hurriedly got to his feet, knocking his chair over behind him, and scrambled for the door. "Wow, would you look at the time! I oughta be getting to bed. Not that your pudding doesn't look lovely, of course. Er…night-night!"

There was a moment of silence, in which the sounds of Milo scuttling clumsily up the stairs were clearly audible. In the silence, Vinny raised his hand.

"Given the circumstances, can I have his pudding?"

.


	4. Chapter 3

_I really wanted to use this chapter to get into the heads of the rest of the team, and to try to get a handle on their characters. Originally, all their scenes were going to be pretty short...then I started writing for Mole, and couldn't stop, which probably isn't a good sign. But there's something about trying to write a character who thinks eating pottery is acceptable behavior that is weirdly fun._

**Chapter 3**

At some point in the night Doctor Sweet must have stumbled in and fallen asleep without waking anyone, as when Milo opened his eyes and stretched himself out, he could make out his bulk slumbering across the room. With the practised fingers of the short-sighted, he fumbled for his glasses, slid them over his eyes, and blinked as the world came into sharper focus. They had been put up in a large spare room, in little makeshift beds on the floor. To avoid arguments, the single bed had been used to store their luggage, although it hadn't stopped Mole from crawling under it, and curling up into a filthy little blanket cocoon.

Kida stirred beside him, her hair frizzy from sleep, and wrapped her arms around his skinny waist. Near his feet, Obby whined and rolled over, sleeping off his meal of cutlery and crockery. Next to him, he could hear the others stirring, as light poured in through the window, and made sleep difficult. At the far corner of the room, Audrey stretched, and kicked off her blankets, pushing aside the neatly folded dress that had been left at the end of her bed.

"So, what's everybody's plans for today?" She said, half-yawning. "Hit the beach? Climb the cliffs?"

"I was thinking of taking a walk along the coast." Milo said. "Show Kida the view."

"That sounds nice." Kida mumbled, still half-asleep, still with her arms around him.

"Me, I want to see these beaches." Vinny spoke without moving from his current position, lying on his back with the blankets pulled over his face. "I've been to Norway. I've been to Iceland. I missed going to the desert. I need a chance to work on my tan."

"I'm with you on the beach." Audrey said, starting to pull her overalls on over the shirt she'd worn to bed. "I haven't been swimming in ages."

There was a horrified gasp from the corner of the room. Milo turned to see Mole, dressed in his garish striped pyjamas, peering with utmost horror at a small folded pile placed beside his bed.

"She has cleaned my clothes!" He squeaked, eyes wide behind his goggles. "Look at zhem! She has come in ze night, and washed away all ze protective layers of dirt!" He gingerly lifted his trousers from the pile, between thumb and forefinger, and sniffed them, retching. "She has filled zhem with unspeakable chemicals!" He shuddered. "…Zhey smell of lavender."

Audrey smirked.

"I'm liking this Mrs Murrain more and more."

"…Now zhey are going to be all itchy…"

The floorboards creaked as Doctor Sweet rolled over, propping himself up on one arm.

"Sounds like y'all have some exciting plans for the day. Wish I could come join you."

"How's it going?" Milo asked. "How are the horses?"

Sweet's face fell a little.

"Well, the worst one didn't make it. He was in bad shape. Never seen anything quite like it. Should'a called me sooner. But the others, I think they stand a fighting chance with me around."

"She has put soap and a little towel next to zhem! Ze woman is mad!"

"Are you alright then, doc?" Milo said. "You were out pretty late. Is there anything we can help you with?"

"Only if any of you happen to have a medical degree you're not telling me about. Y'all relax and enjoy the sun. I daresay you deserve it."

"Are you sure? We can't do anything? Anything at all."

"Well, perhaps one thing…"

"Uh huh?"

"You can all get out and enjoy the sun, and let a man get 15 more minutes of peace."

* * *

The day was, if possible, hotter than before. The air had the stifling, tense feeling of a brewing storm, the breezeless sort of weather that clung to the skin. In one corner of the sky, bruise-coloured clouds piled themselves up in anticipation. Even on the beach, with the sea breathing rhythmically in and out, there was little relief.

"So, we meet back here around sunset, then head back to the house together?" Milo said.

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds good to me. "Audrey cast an eager glance at the sea, already stripped down to her pants and vest. "Can we go now?"

"Okay. Just remember, sunset. Kida and me are going to be walking on the cliffs, if anyone needs us."

"Yeah, I think we'll manage without you. Just the once."

Milo knelt down in the sand, and scratched Obby's head gently.

"You stay down here with everyone. Kida and me are going for a long walk up some cliffs, one that I don't think a chubby little lava-dog like you would appreciate."

Obby gave a low whine.

"We'll be back soon, Obby. I just don't think we'd enjoy carrying you up a rock-face."

"Don't worry. We'll take good care of your dog…whale… lizard…thing." Vinny said, pulling his jumper off.

"See you at sunset, then."

* * *

Mole crept along the base of the cliffs, bathed in the shade they cast down, moving from rock to rock with a wide smile on his face. How could anyone feel sad, after all, when they were right in the heart of the Old Red Sandstone belt, rich with red iron oxides, replete with sedimentary mudstones and conglomerates? The cliffs arched high above him, rugged sandstone, shaped by wind and waves, their crevices only serving to enhance the beauty of their natural stratification. Under his feet, the fine sand (a mixture of eroded sandstones and crushed sea shells, mainly _P. vulgata_, some _M. edulis_, with a salty tang and deep iodine aftertaste) crunched.

Obby lumbered along in his footsteps, panting happily. The lava-dog had taken a liking to him, the two having a considerable lot in common: neither were very concerned about what they put in their mouths, or when they had last bathed.

"Hello my little rock-licking friends." Mole crooned, kneeling down at the base of a beautiful Aeolian formation. He peered, setting his goggles to a high magnification, at the life encrusting the sandstone, at the sharp barnacles, the pointed limpets, and the glossy black mussels. They were wonderful creatures, he mused: clinging to rock, making rock-hard shells, they were the closest that animals could get to actually being rock. Rock was always something to aspire to.

He tore his gaze away from the limpets, and the beautiful microscopic patterns their sharp little teeth carved into the rock. There was so much more to explore! So many rocks! So much dirt! Even the odd, stiff itch of clean clothes against his skin couldn't dampen his mood or enthusiasm.

A scattering of pebbles (sandstone again, undertones of coriander), slowly gave way to a mound of boulders, piled up at the base of the cliff. A thin trickle of water spilled down from the pile, gurgling over Mole's boots. Curious, he stuck a finger into the water and licked. Fresh. He looked back up at the cliffs. The history of the place was obvious at a glance: part of the cliff had slid down, probably weakened by a savage storm, and cut off the entrance to some wonderful subterranean cave, carved by an underground stream. As stunning as the rock-pile was, this blockage could not be allowed to continue.

He clambered up the pile. Calloused but sensitive fingers found hand-holds, sought out weaknesses and wobbles. Here. Here was the place to dig, clear as day. His grin stretched ear-to-ear at the prospect, and he pulled a folding pickaxe from his sleeve, his other hand holding him steady. He struck the rock hard and clean, cleaving it exactly as he'd predicted, the fragments spilling down the slope. Obby had awkwardly climbed up too, watching him quizzically as he worked, splitting large rocks, pulling out smaller ones with strong, blunt fingers. It didn't take long before he was half-submerged in the hole, only his rhythmically wriggling rear protruding, muffled scraping coming from within.

"Aha! I have done it!"

He pulled the rest of his stubby body through the finished hole, falling the last few feet into darkness, landing face-down on sand-strew rock. He lay there for a few minutes in utter bliss, entombed safely in cool blackness, surrounded by rock and grit on every side. Then he pulled himself into a sitting position, and flicked on his headlamp, blinking in the sudden light.

"Mon dieu…"

Illuminated in the faint light his lamp, and the faint sunlight from the entry hole, was the cave. It was not the cave that Mole, for all his expertise, had expected. For one thing, it was much larger than the damp little hole he'd been expecting, large enough for multiple people to stand comfortably in. For another, the freshwater stream that had led him inside came spilling over from a still pool at the back of the cave, carving a small channel in the rocky floor. Lastly, and most surprisingly, were the sides of the cave. They had been carved. Not expertly, he noted, but they had certainly been carved, making small artificial indentations into the cave walls. Getting to his feet, he shuffled over to them, and peered at the contents.

"Empty. Empty. Fine coating of ash, likely preserved by still subterranean air. Pottery fragments, dating from…" Lick. "…Ze mid 18th century. Empty. Rusty iron fragments, some decomposed wood…" He peered down at Obby, who had followed him through the hole, and was also looking quizzically at the carved holes. "It looks like zhis cave was once a place of great significance." He sniffed the air quizzically. The cool air held no clues, just the musty, earthy scent of caves.

He patted Obby on the head, and padded over to the still freshwater pool. He reached into his pocket and removed a spare headlight, lying on his belly beside the pool and lowering the light as far as his stubby arm would reach. He had long since made all his light-sources water-proof: you never knew when something, water or not, was going to drip on you, and having an un-insulated battery pack strapped to your head in those circumstances was…painful. The light from the torch carved through the clear water. In the distance, Mole could make out a tunnel, stretching off into the water until it was swallowed by darkness. He pulled the torch out, and wiped it dry on his coat. To his satisfaction, the material was swiftly gaining a new crusting of grime.

"Don't worry. I am not crazy." He reassured Obby, patting him again. "I am not going to dive into some unknown, underwater tunnel. Zhat would be suicide. Zhere's no telling where it would come out." Obby licked him affectionately.

He climbed to his feet, and wandered back over to where sunlight was streaming through the hole. He hefted Obby up, and carefully heaved the chubby creature up and out of the cave, pulling himself out after. The sun was piercingly bright after the sweet gloom of the subterranean. It was a long time until sunset.

"Come." He said, making his way down the mound. "Zhere is still plenty of time! More caves await!"

* * *

Vinny lay out on the warm sand, the sun toasting his pale skin, his clothes balled up into a pillow behind his head. It was impossible for him to pinpoint the moment where peaceful dozing had slipped into deep dreaming, but at some point it must have happened, because now he was floundering awake, his nose and lungs filled with acrid smoke. He flailed for a moment, rising into a sitting position, squinting with stinging eyes. Had he left the powder too close to the heater? Gotten the caesium wet? Had someone jolted the nitro-glycerine again? He clambered to his feet with a wheezy cough, beginning to get his bearings back. He was on the beach. He hadn't exploded anything recently…nothing large enough to count, anyway. And the smoke wasn't coming from any charred wreckage this time, but billowing down from further up the beach.

He cast an irritated glance at the source of the smoke: off in the distance, men were toiling around smoking pits in the sand. He turned his gaze upwards: despite the heat, the sun had been swallowed up by cloud, the sky turning to a bruised grey. Clearly, today was not the day to get a tan. With a sigh, Vinny pulled his jumper and trousers back on, and trudged over to the source of the smoke.

"Eh, I think your breakfast is done."

At the sound of Vinny's voice, the boy tending the nearest pit jumped slightly, his head jerking upright.

"What you got in that, anyways?" Vinny continued. "Bacon? Sausages? Those little minty things on skewers?"

"Oh, nothing like that."

"Shame. I could go for sausages right about now."

"You wouldn't want to eat this, trust me." The boy looked up into Vinny's impassive face, and felt the need to elaborate. "It's seaweed. We're burning seaweed down for kelp-ash. You just dig a pit, line it up with stones, cover it all over, and leave it overnight. And in the morning, you've got kelp-ash!"

"Ah, of course. Kelp-ash. Everyone loves kelp-ash. …What do you do with kelp-ash?"

"We sell it off to the glass-makers overseas. Brings in a bit of extra money over the summer. We were the first island in the Orkney's to burn seaweed, y'know, and now we're bringing it back. Fell out of fashion a while ago, sadly."

Vinny looked down at the smoking, whitish ash, and gave a faint cough.

"Can't for the life of me think why." He muttered.

* * *

The sun was sinking low, the horizon tinting blood-red where the sky met the ocean, the sky mottled over with roiling storm clouds. Sure, it was probably sunset by now. And hey, she had said that she'd meet on the beach by then. But for the moment, Audrey didn't particularly care. It wasn't like they were in a rush to get anywhere, after all.

She took a deep breath, and submerged herself in the cool, grey water, ploughing through it with strong kicks. Her pappy had always encouraged outdoor pursuits. Spending the day baking on the sands when there was a great big sea waiting seemed like madness to her.

She surfaced with a sharp little gasp, and dived again.

Below the water, everything had a weird dim blurriness, the murky sea only letting her see a few inches in front of her face. It didn't matter: there wasn't much to see down here, just rocks and stray seaweeds. What really mattered was feeling the seawater on her face. And, to her horror, something else colliding with her face, something small and slimy. She jerked her head out of the water with a gasp, finding her footing on the wet sand, and looked down at the slimy thing she'd swum in to.

It was a dead and bloated fish.

Perhaps it was time to go meet everyone, after all.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

By the time Milo and Kida made their way down to the beach, the sun was just sinking into the sea. They were just in time, Milo noted: fog was rolling in from the sea in thick, stinking swathes. Obby gave a bark, and raced towards them.

"Oh look, the lovebirds are back." Vinny looked up as they approached, lifting one bushy eyebrow.

"It's good to see you too." Milo replied. "Get up to anything interesting while we were gone?"

"Eh. I tried sunbathing, got smoked-out. Then the sun went in."

Audrey finished lacing her boots back on, and stood up.

"I went for a swim. Swam into a rotten old fish." She sniffed her damp hair, before cramming it back into her hat. "Now I smell like Mole on a hot day."

"I resent zhat comparison!"

"I'm just saying, there's a reason why people keep buying you soap for Christmas."

The wind swept in across the sea, bringing a fresh wave of pungent fog. The ocean lapped at Milo's feet, a few bubbles popping against his boots. He looked up. The greyish sky was slowly darkening.

"Everyone ready to head back to the farmhouse?" He said. "I want to get a start before this fog gets any thicker."

Audrey nodded.

"Yeah, let's get moving. We don't wanna get led off a cliff again."

"That was an accident!" Milo protested. The sea moaned again, deep and low. "Alright, let's head back. It sounds like there's a storm brewing."

They climbed up from the beach, up the crunching gravel pathway. Milo could feel the fog sticking to his skin, mingling with sweat in the night's heat, feel it catching in his throat. With the close, sticky atmosphere, it was a relief to find himself at the crest of the cliffs, and to walk along flatter ground again. He cast a glance back. Yes, everyone was still there, drawing in close to keep together in the mist. Obby practically tripped over his many feet to get close to his master, whining faintly.

"It's okay Obby. It's just the wind." He said. His word seemed to do little to comfort the lava-dog though. He pressed himself as close to Milo's legs as possible, trembling slightly, his beady black eyes staring. A strangled whimper escaped his throat. "Come on boy."

Milo wrapped his arms around Obby, and heaved, doing little to move the chubby creature. It did, however, seem to break the spell: Obby stopped his whimpering, and scuttled to the head of the group, moving with uncharacteristic speed. It was all Milo could do to keep his fat purple tail in view, as he stumbled after him. His heart began to race a little faster, unease tightening around his stomach.

"Hey! Obby! Slow down!" From ahead, there was an impatient bark. From behind, the sound of heavy footsteps as everyone scrambled to keep up. "Obby, we need to stick together!"

With a final burst of speed, Milo managed to throw himself forwards, and grab Obby around the neck, both falling to the ground in a tangle. Obby thrashed in his arms, body contorting, huge teeth snapping. His beady eyes rolled in his skull in a wild panic. Panic began to fill Milo, too. He'd never seen the lava dog so spooked.

"What's gotten into him?" Kida came through the fog, kneeling down and helping Milo to restrain him.

"I don't know, I've never seen him like this before! Perhaps its…"Milo paused, his eyes wide. "Wait! Quiet, everyone! …Do…do you hear that?"

For a moment the only sounds where Obby's faint whining, and their own ragged breathing. Then, not that far off, came the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. Then again. And again. There was no mistaking it: it was the sound of vast, heavy footsteps. Obby threw back his head and howled, a loud shriek of terror. And then Milo saw it: saw the dim shape looming through the fog, taller than a man, taller than a house. He felt its feet shake the earth, felt his eyes burn from the stench of it. He looked up, and for a moment, terror paralysed him. He couldn't run, couldn't scream. He could only stare at the…the thing in front of him.

The creature's head was vast and round, far too big for its scrawny neck to support, so that the head lolled grotesquely to one side. There was only a single burning eye in the hideous head, and it rolled wildly, the mouth below it lolling open, as though the jaw had broken. At the creature's misshapen waist, there were no legs: its body fused into another body, a grotesque parody of steed and rider. This other body was like a horse, a horse with cracked hooves the size of dinner-plates, and a belly bloated, like it had died and rotted in the sun. The head of this second body was also huge, almost too large to hold off the ground, the mouth gaping wide as a whale's, a swollen tongue protruding, with nothing above the mouth but empty eye-sockets.

But for all the horrors of the creature's appearance, these were by no means the worst. They were not what made Milo's breath catch in his chest, or bile rise in his throat.

The creature had no skin.

Its raw flesh glistened with the oily sheen of decay, muscles writhing like maggots as it moved. Milo could clearly see tight white sinews straining, see clotted black blood choking yellowed veins, see crumbling bone and swollen organs. He saw its suppurating flesh flex as it stepped forwards, hooves shaking the earth, lidless eye focusing on him, on them, on the huddled group of figures that were so small, so insignificant compared to it. And then the spell broke.

"RUN!"

His voice came out as a frantic scream. He didn't care. He was running, they were all running, their feet pounding the ground, a mad dash with no other purpose than to get away from that thing, that flayed abomination. He could hear it. He could hear its huge hoof-beats behind them, shaking the earth. He could hear the breath rattling in its chest. Closer, ever closer.

He glanced over his shoulder, and looked straight into the hollow sockets of the lowermost head. It had almost drawn level with them, its wide black gullet yawning. With a scream, Milo pushed forwards, making one final effort, forcing his exhausted legs to work. Ahead lay the little stream, cutting its path through the grass. Milo splashed into it, and to his horror, felt his feet slip on the slick pebbles. The world was a mess of grass and water as he tumbled over, falling flat on his face in the rushing water, and he knew it was over, drawing his arms around his head in a last, futile attempt to protect himself. He heard Kida scream his name, heard someone gasp, heard the creature's footsteps stop. He scrunched his eyes closed. He held his breath.

Nothing. No pain. No snapping of teeth, no trampling of huge hooves. Unrolling himself, Milo dared to peek up. There was the beast, on the bank of the rivulet, so close that Milo could see its hooves tear up clods of dirt as it pawed at the shore. It reared, hooves flailing, bloated entrails showing, its huge head lolling back with a sickening crunch, letting out a low, rumbling moan. The stench from each head was atrocious, strong enough to make Milo's head swim. Then the creature turned, and with earth-shaking steps, lumbered back into the stinking darkness.

Kida was by his side in an instant, helping him to his feet. Vinny grabbed him by the other arm, and helped haul him up.

"What…what was that thing?" He squinted off into the growing gloom. "Why did it stop chasing us?"

Kida wiped a strand of damp hair out of his face, and straightened his skewed glasses.

"The important thing is it's gone."

Audrey nodded.

"Yeah. Let's get inside before it changes its mind."

They limped the last few hundred yards to the cottage, looking furtively over their shoulders as they went. The door was latched, as always, and they pushed inside gratefully. Milo breathed a sigh of relief, to be getting out of the filthy fog. Of course, the logical part of his brain knew that a little wooden farmhouse probably wouldn't offer much protection against the creature, but he was happy to delude himself for now, and join the others in flopping down in the living room. If anything, he wasn't sure his shaking legs could hold him up much longer.

"Alright, first things first." Vinny said, shivering slightly. "What the heck was that thing?"

"Whatever it was, it was creepy." Said Audrey. "If it hadn't stopped when it did…urgh."

Milo leant forward thoughtfully.

"It has to be the water that stopped it. There are all sorts of creatures in classic folklore that can't cross running water. Vampires, demons, fairies…"

Vinny snorted.

"Some fairy."

"…The important thing is, if it can't cross that little stream, this house is safe."

The stairs creaked under heavy footsteps. Milo looked up to see Doctor Sweet stumble into the room. There were dark rings under his eyes, and a grim expression on his face.

"Doc? Doctor Sweet? Are you alright?"

"_I'm_ alright. It's them I'm worried about."

"The horses?"

"D'you think I'd get this worried over horses? No, it's worse than that. A whole lot worse."

"What do you mean?"

"The disease. It's crossed the species barrier. The kids have got it, the adults have got it, and if you lot stay here, I'm pretty sure you're all gonna get it too. I've never seen anything like it in my life: sudden onset, high fever, breathing difficulties, lesions all over the skin… This is too much for me to handle. I've been trying to get through to the mainland, arrange to get them to a hospital, the kids at least, but this place is in the middle of nowhere, and…"

Kida laid a hand on his back.

"You're doing all you can."

"I don't think that's gonna be enough."

Milo stood up.

"Doc, I don't know if this is going to make much difference, but we saw something out there tonight. Some sort of monster. I don't know what's going on, but what if they're connected? What if this isn't any ordinary disease? I know it's a little far-fetched, but something strange is happening on this island, and…"

"It's that old witch on the cliffs!"

Milo jumped, as Mavis' voice interrupted him. She came staggering into the room, her eyes wild, her skin splattered with livid blotches. Doctor Sweet stepped forwards to grab her.

"Mrs Murrain! You're under strict orders to stay in bed!"

"She did this to us! She did this to my children!" She continued, froth gathering at the corners of her mouth. "She sent this disease to ruin us!"

"Come on Mavis. Back to bed with you…"

"Wait!" Milo put a hand on her bony shoulder. "Who is this woman? Where does she live?"

Mavis swayed a little, eyes half-closing.

"She lives alone, in a little cottage on the cliffs, up at the highest point. Always talking about folklore, stupid old sayings… Don't wash your hair on a Sunday, don't burn the seaweed, don't touch cold iron on the first night of a full moon…"

"Milo, I don't think Mrs Murrian is in any state for questioning at the moment." Said Sweet, half-supporting her.

"No, no, I'm sorry. You've been a great help, ma'm."

Doctor Sweet led her back out of the room.

"So what, we've got a witch involved now?" Said Vinny.

"We can't know for sure until we speak to her." Said Milo. "First thing tomorrow, we'll find this cottage on the cliffs, and we'll get some answers. Until then, we'd best try to get some sleep. I don't want to go back out tonight. Not with that thing out there."

Vinny nodded, yawning slightly.

"Yeah. Nothing like running for your life to get you ready for a good nights sleep."

* * *

Despite the circumstances, everyone had managed to doze off. Vinny knew this, as he was currently lying wide-awake, surrounded by contented snoring. He rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable position. There was an awkward tightness in his chest that was making it difficult to drift off. He coughed softly, and pulled the blankets tighter around himself, shivering.

He closed his eyes, trying to force himself into sleep. Why did his life always turn out like this? At first it had just been ordinary misfortune: exploding laundries, getting locked up in a Turkish prison, the usual things. Then there had been the expedition: finding a lost civilization, threatening them, changing his mind, fighting for them. Nothing too strange.

He shivered, and rolled over again. This earned him a grunt and a kick from Audrey.

But then things had started to get really weird. He'd seen things that that you couldn't explain: mad gods, and fire demons, and giant squiddy things with mind-powers. Was this what the rest of his life was going to be like? Always stumbling from one strange situation to the other, never settling down, never getting his flower shop up and running, and properly bomb-proofed?

He coughed again, trying to get rid of the wheezy feeling in his chest. Audrey groaned. Next to him, he could hear Milo rolling over.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a tickle." He coughed again, his back arching. "…A big tickle."

"You sound awful." Milo's voice had a trace of panic to it. Vinny knew exactly why. It was exactly that same reason that he'd been trying to push to the back of his mind. "Does anyone have a light?"

"I told you, I'm okay." Vinny protested, noticing how his voice rasped.

"Wait a moment…" Mole's voice came from the darkness, a few moments before his headlamp flickered into life, casting the room in a dull glow. "Zhere you go." He smiled for a moment, before his eyes flickered onto Vinny. "Oh…"

There was no denying it: even in the faint light, the blotches were quite clear, making their way up his arms, creeping over his skin. Vinny looked down, dread slowly seeping through him. He gave a strained smile.

"I knew I should have gone to Guernsey instead."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dawn broke with a dull light. It didn't matter. Milo was already awake. He had laid there for what seemed like hours, watching the sky slowly lighten, mind racing. What was going on? He hadn't bought any books with him…not ones about skinless monsters, anyway. Was there a connection between the creature that had chased them last night and this mysterious disease, or was he just clutching at straws?

Kida stirred beside him, and crawled into a sitting position. From the creases beneath her eyes, it had not been an easy night for her, either.

"Are the others awake?" She whispered.

"Not yet. It's getting light outside, though."

Audrey yawned, and began to move.

"I can hear you, y'know. I'm coming. Just give me a moment to find my shoes." She looked up, at the concerned faces of Milo and Kida.

"Audrey, I think you'd better stay here." Said Milo softly.

"What? Because of this?" Audrey glanced down at her hands, which were covered in angry blotches. "No, this is nothing. This isn't the dreaded plague everyone's going on about, it's just…just an allergy or something. I'll be fine."

She shifted, trying to stand, only getting halfway before keeling over again.

"Audrey!"

"I'm fine. I'm fine." She said, through gritted teeth, her breath stuttering into little strangled sobs. "I've just got the disease that's killing everything on this stupid, stinking island! No big deal!"

"Audrey, listen to me." Kida's voice was calm, her hand cool on Audrey's shoulder "We're going to do everything we can to get to the bottom of this. But you have to stay calm. You have to rest."

Audrey nodded, sniffing her tears up with a loud snort.

"Fine. Okay. I'll stay here." She gave a faint, wonky smile. "I guess Vinny needs some company anyway."

Vinny groaned from under the blankets.

"You start a game of eye-spy and I swear I'm taking my chance with the monster."

Kida flashed a small smile back at Audrey.

"I promise you, we'll do everything in our power to fix this."

Milo picked himself up. Two down. Who knew how long the rest of them had?

"Right. We need to get moving. Mole? Are you alright?"

Mole crawled out from under the bed and snapped off a salute.

"I am fine. One does not explore ze sewers of Paris without gaining some immunities. Why, I recall one time, ze pipes ruptured, and-"

"…That's great Mole. Glad to have you with us."

* * *

At the highest point of the cliffs, as Mavis had said, stood a battered old cottage, its shape clear against the bright white sky. The sky was piled up with clouds, the whole island smothered under them, thick with fog. The air was still, painfully still. Nothing stirred except them and the flies. Innumerable, swarming flies, the buzzing loud in the still air. Under Milo's feet, the grass crunched. Dry. Dead.

"This has to be the place." He said, as they approached, voice loud in the misty quiet. Sweat prickled on his forehead. The tiny cottage, storm-battered and rickety, was surrounded by a circle of buckets and pots. They formed a ring around it, a mismatched throng of containers, each filled to the brim with still, stagnant water. Mole knelt down next to one, and dipped his tongue in the scummy liquid.

"Ze water is fresh."

Milo picked his way over the ring of pots. The door to the old cottage was rotting, the wood flaking from the rusted hinges. Milo pushed it open, with a wet creak, squinting into the darkness.

"Hello?" Milo noticed a shape, a bony old lady, sitting in a chair by the fire. "We're here about the Murrain family. What do you know about them? What's happening to them?"

From her seat by the fire, the old lady unfolded, with the creaking of stiff joints.

"The Murrain family? What makes you think all this is limited to the Murrain family?" She came shambling forwards, her tattered grey dress swishing across the dusty floor, until she was stood next to Milo, at the doorframe, faded blue eyes glowering into his. She gestured out through the door with a wrinkled hand. "The whole island is sick."

"We can see that." Kida's voice was tense. "What do you know about this sickness? What have you been doing to this island?"

The old lady gave half a bitter chuckle.

"Me? You think all this is my doing? "She looked down at herself, at her skinny arms, her hunched frame, her skin stretched thin over her bones. "Look at me. I can barely lift fresh logs onto the fire. You think I could bring this whole wide island to its knees."

Mole squinted up at her through mist-clouded goggles.

"Looks can be deceiving." He hissed.

The old lady sighed.

"And if was the cause of all this? What would I gain? Petty revenge? That seems a poor reason to let a whole island rot."

"Alright, so this sickness isn't your doing." Milo sighed. "We believe you. But you know more than you're letting on, don't you?"

Another sigh.

"Very well. I'll tell you want you want to know, for all the good it'll bring." She held her skinny arms out. "But humour an old lady, will you? Help me up to the cliffs. Let me look out over the sea again. Then, I swear, I'll tell you all I know."

Milo and Kida took an arm each, and helped the frail old lady out of her cottage, out from the ring of stale water, and up to the crest of the cliffs. She was light, but Milo was relieved to reach the top of the cliffs: he was afraid he'd snap her skinny arms like twigs, or bruise her papery skin. She leant her head back, a few white hairs coming free, and breathed in the fetid air.

"I remember the old times." She said, quietly. "I remember old Stronsay, back when they still knew the old ways." She shuddered. "I remember when the Nuckelavee roamed the land."

"The Nuckelavee?" Milo asked.

"An old Orkney sea-demon. It rises from the water. Below the sea, it is as formless as the waves, but above, it takes terrible shape. Like a monstrous horse and rider, with one great fiery eye, its body stripped of skin…"

"We saw it! It chased us up from the beach. If we hadn't made it across the stream, it would have..." What would it had done?

"The Nuckelavee cannot abide the touch of fresh water." She continued, casting a glance back at her house, at her little circle of buckets. "In the winter, the storms and rain keep it trapped in the sea. It is only in the still summer months that it can ride out."

"But why now? Why is back?"

The old woman sighed, and gazed down at the sea. The water itself had turned slimy: the silvery bodies of fish floated, bloated, on the surface, battering against the craggy rocks below.

"They're burning the kelp again. I tried to tell them. They didn't listen. They didn't know better. It's the smoke that angers the Nuckleavee. It awakens, and rages over the land, spreading the sickness. They call it the Mortasheen. It is a terrible fate, to catch the Mortasheen, to rot from the inside. It takes the people, then the animals, and with every life claimed, the Nuckleavee grows in power. The beast won't stop until the whole island is dead."

She was quiet for a moment. Then Kida spoke.

"But you say that this has happened before? What did you do then? How did you stop the creature?"

"Ah, my dear. That was in the old days. Back then, when the Nuckelavee came, we would call on the Mither 'O the Deep, a spirit of clean water, honoured on this island in the old times. We would go down to the old sea-caves, and make an offering of fire and water, and if she listened, she would drive the beast back into the sea. She would cure the afflicted…those of them left alive. We learned to stop burning the kelp soon enough. Ever since, the beast has slumbered." She sagged. "But that was long ago. They stopped coming. They forgot. The cave is stopped up with rocks now, and I dare say that that spirit has left the island for good."

Mole peered up through the fog.

"But it is not blocked! I have cleared a way through ze rubble!"

"And if you are wise, you'll leave that cave to rot. The island is dead. Go. Go, while you still can. Find a boat. Swim, if you must. Just get off this cursed island, before the sickness takes you."

"We're not leaving!" Milo protested. "We're going to sort this out."

The old woman laughed.

"Don't waste your time. There's no saving this island now. Escape. Escape any way you can. I know I've found my way."

She stared down at the ocean for one more moment. Then, with a sudden effort, before anyone could stop or reach for her, she leapt forwards, her hair flying out behind her as she fell through the mist. The fog obscured her landing, but it could do nothing to stop the sound of crunching bone, or the hide fact that the next wave foamed pink. Milo stood on the empty cliff, staring down.

"N-no…"

There was nothing much more to say. Kida wrapped her arms around him, and held him close. Mole rested a grubby hand on his arm. He sniffed, and drew himself up, taking a deep breath of stinking air.

"Alright. Alright. We know what we need to do. Mole, can you take us to that cave?"

"Nothing could be easier. Follow me. I will guide you zhere."

He stumped off along the path. Milo followed, but not before casting one last glance back at the tiny, empty shack on the cliff. How long, he wondered, had she lived there alone?

Mole led them down from the cliffs, down towards the beach. Sometimes he sniffed the air, or peered down at the soil beneath his feet. Sometimes, Milo wondered what went on inside his head. Most of the time, he was content not knowing.

Mole came to a stop, breathing heavily. He frowned, and rubbed his forehead.

"Please excuse me." He said. "I seem to have lost my bearings." He blinked, and squinted through the fog, rubbing his forehead with a grubby finger.

"Mole? Not you too!" Milo knelt down beside him, face etched with worry.

"Just a little dizzy. I will be fine in a moment." Mole said, faintly. Then his eyes crossed slightly behind his goggles, and he leant forwards, splattering his stomach contents onto Milo's boots with a loud retching.

"Alright. I lied. I am not fine." He choked, spitting out a fragment of willow-patterned pottery. Then, very slowly, he pitched forwards, landing face-first in the gravel with a dull crunch.

* * *

Together, Kida and Milo managed to half-carry, half-drag Mole back to the farmhouse. Mercifully, they had stopped quite close: for such a short little man, Mole was disproportionately heavy. Together, they managed to man-handle him through the house, and set him down in the spare room. Milo's heart raced a little as he looked around the room: Vinny and Audrey were asleep, or unconscious, the room filled with their erractic wheezing. Both were pale as death, their skin shining with sweat. Milo peered closer, his stomach lurching slightly. The blotches that had once covered their skin were suppurating, the skin beginning to decay, to soften and fall off. A trace of pinkish foam had collected at the corner of Vinny's mouth.

Beyond them, he could see the bulk of Doctor Sweet. He was also asleep, although not quite so bad. He must only recently have succumbed, Milo reasoned. He gulped down the bile rising in his throat, and turned back to Kida: she was easing off Mole's goggles and headgear, releasing the sharp, salty smell of unwashed scalp.

"I don't want to die!" He whimpered. "Zhere are so many more holes to dig!"

Milo gingerly squeezed his hand.

"Nobody's going to die. It's going to be alright. Now. Can you tell us how to find that cave?"

Mole looked up with beady, crusted eyes.

"Oh, zhat is easy. It is ze one next to the Aeolian sandstone features, with clear water erosion damage, and obvious stratification of sediment. " Milo's expression was blank. "…Ze big one with water coming out of it."

"Right! Let's go!"

"Wait! You will need equipment! Go to my luggage. Zhere are spare torches in zhere."

"Right. Equipment. Of course."

Milo stumbled over to the pile of luggage, unceremoniously ripping open Mole's bag, and letting the contents spill out, a tangle of equipment, chunks of rock, and a notable lack of clean underwear. He grabbed two head-torches and a pair of folding pickaxes out of the clutter.

"An offering of fire and water..." He mumbled to himself. He ripped open Vinny's case too, adding a distressing amount of explosives to the pile on the bed. There it was, amid the flares and pebbles: Vinny's beloved waterproof match case. Milo grabbed it, and put it in his pocket, along with a few sticks of dynamite. Just in case.

"Sorry Mole. Sorry Vinny. I'll help you pack up later." He turned to Kida, handing her a torch and axe. "Ready to go?"

"Yes. Let's hurry." Her voice was quiet. Firm.

Together, they left the little bedroom, closing the door on the creeping scent of decay.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Down again. Down to the beach, down to the rotting sea. The air was thick with fog, the stench almost choking as Milo stumbled along, slipping on rocks coated with slime. His heart raced, fluttering under his ribcage. His stomach was a tight, nauseous knot. His friends were dying. The people who had stood beside him and risked their lives for him were dying, if they weren't dead already. Audrey. Vinny. Mole. Sweet. All gone.

He forced himself to stop thinking like that, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. No. It would all be fine. They could stop this. They could find the cave, and make the offering, and everyone would be fine again. All his friends. Mavis. Her husband. The children. …Oh god, the children. Were they still hanging on? He hadn't dared to check.

Down onto the sands now, the sand clotted with slime, slick under his feet. Kida walked silently by his side, the only sound her breath panting between her teeth. Obby scuttled along behind them, unusually quiet too. His stomach lurched. Nerves. He was just nervous. That's why he felt slightly queasy, why his knees were wobbly. It was just paranoia, that was all.

"Milo! I think this is the cave!" Kida called, pointing into the distance. Milo squinted. Yes, there it was, the entrance filled in with fallen boulders, a thin trickle of water snaking out of the pile, and down to the slimy sea.

"Great!" He said, doubling his pace. His legs felt weak, his chest tight. Just the heat. "I think you're right." He strode forwards, towards the entrance. Then one of his knees buckled and he fell forwards, his hands tearing furrows in the sand as he caught himself.

"Milo!"

Kida was knelt beside him in what seemed like an instant, her arms around his trembling waist. She lifted his skinny frame, propping him into a sitting position against a rock. Her eyes stared into his, glinting with fear.

"I'm fine. I just tripped, that's all."

Kida slid a hand onto his forehead, worming her way under his fringe, and frowned.

"No you're not, Milo." Little lines of worry traced across her face. Milo looked up at that beautiful, slightly blurred face, and knew what he had to say.

"Kida, I…I think the old lady was right." Good grief, when she looked at him like that, with so much concern, so much affection, it made him burn inside. "You've got to get off this island. You're the only one left."

"I'm not leaving you!" Her voice rang with incredulity.

"Listen. Please, Kida. I think it's too late. It won't be long before the next boat comes. If you can just keep safe until then, you can escape." He coughed, salty mucus rising in his throat. "Kida…I think it's the crystal. You've lived under it almost all your life. It's protecting you. It protected me, for a while, let me hold on for a bit longer than the others, but it wasn't enough. I…I think you might be immune. You can keep your head down. You can go back to Atlantis, and be safe."

"And leave you to die? Leave all my friends to die?" There was a trace of anger creeping into her voice. "None of you gave up on me when I needed you. And you think, for one minute, that I wouldn't do the same?"

"No. No, it's not like that. But you're a queen. Your people need you. And-"

Kida gave an exasperated sigh.

"This talking isn't getting us to the cave. Come on." She wrapped an arm around Milo, and pulled him to his feet. "I'm not leaving you out here."

At their feet, Obby began to whine. Milo's heart gave another flutter, as he and Kida followed Obby's gaze, out to the still, stinking ocean. For a moment, there was nothing to see but the slow slop of the slimy waves. Then, billowing up from the deep, the water began to run red.

"Oh god…" Milo heard himself whimper.

The sea sloshed against the shore in sticky crimson waves, the breakers leaving the sand stained red. Then, rising from the gore-clotted sea, came the vast, mutilated head of the Nuckelavee. A wave of warm, putrid air came rushing in from the deep as it rose, pulling more and more of its body from the water, a flayed hoof reaching out onto the sand.

"No!" Kida's voice came out as a hoarse shriek of rage. "Not now!"

She stared up at the beast, flashing blue eyes meeting its lone, fiery one. Now it was looming towards them, pulling its rear limbs from the sea with a dull squelching, its huge, gnarled arms dragging on the sand as it came. Kida loosened her grip on Milo, setting him back down on the sand.

"Get to the cave if you can." She whispered softly. "You'll be safe there."

"Wait, no! What are you doing?"

Then, with a scream tearing itself from her throat, Kida was running, running full speed towards the Nuckelavee. Milo saw her go, boots barely touching the sand. For a moment, the Nuckelavee itself seemed stunned, stunned that someone dared run towards it rather than away. In that moment, Kida closed the distance between the two, and in one lithe movement, vaulted onto the beast's lower head. Milo saw her wobble for a moment, as the creature began to thrash. Then she threw herself forward, hands grabbing at the exposed muscle of its torso, seizing handholds of raw sinew, drawing spurts of black blood. The Nuckleavee contorted, with an earth-shaking moan, as she clambered hand over hand up its back, pulling herself up, until she was straddling its shoulders, her boots crushing into its exposed windpipe. Milo saw her clinging there, white hair wild, her teeth bared in a savage snarl, her eyes flashing. Milo saw her reach into her pocket, and brandish something high above her head: a folding pickaxe. Then her arm came down, with a raw scream of rage, driving the pick into the Nuckelavee's rolling eye.

The Nuckelavee screamed, an unearthly sound, like a multitude of voices screaming together. And Kida, clotted now with the creature's black blood, rained blows down on its head again and again. One of the great, decaying hooves came pounding down close to Milo: he forced himself to move, throwing himself out of the way. He heard a savage snarl from beside him. In a blur of purple, Obby threw himself at the Nuckelavee. Teeth built for crushing rock clamped onto the beast's leg. Muscles strong enough to pull their owner through viscous molten rock tightened, bringing his teeth slicing through muscle and sinew, splintering through bone with ease.

With trembling limbs, Milo pulled himself to his feet. There was nothing he could do here, nothing that could help Kida. He'd only distract her, get them both killed. His head swam as he stood up, spots of unearthly colours twinkling in front of his eyes, but he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, always keeping his eyes fixed on the small, dark hole in the cliff. He stumbled up to it, grabbing the rock-face for support. Behind him, the Nuckelavee bellowed. Ahead of him yawned the black hole. Getting down on his hands and knees, he pushed himself through.

He landed hard on the other side, on a rocky, slimy floor. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out his headlamp, and struggled with it until it flickered to life, bathing the interior of the cave with a dull, yellow light. He straightened his glasses and squinted around. Yes, this was it. There were indentations carved in the walls, filled with pottery fragments, and the remains of previous offerings. There was the pool of freshwater, at the back of the cave. As for the rest of it, though…the cave was a dead-end. He cast his gaze around the cave, panic starting to rise inside him. There was no way through. No way deeper into the cave…except for that still, dark pool in the far corner.

He struggled over to the pool. The floor of the cave was slick with slime, making it hard to keep his footing. There, below him, the black water glistened, leading off into darkness. There was no telling how far the tunnel went on for, or indeed if it came up anywhere at all. For all Milo knew, he would be diving into a dead end, getting lost in a maze of tunnels, drowning down there. Bile rose in his throat, and he fell forwards on his hands and knees, spewing out the acid, lumpy contents of his stomach onto the rocks. Panting, he spat the vile taste out of his mouth. His head was swimming. He knew what he had to do, knew he had to do it fast, before he couldn't do it at all.

He swung his legs over the side of the pool, gasping as he slid into the icy water. His head dipped under, and he floundered to the surface, grabbing onto the rocks. He fumbled with his torch, strapping it firmly to his head. He didn't want to think what would happen to him down there without light. Taking a deep breath, Milo dived.

Water closed around him, in his ears, in his eyes, ice prickling into his scalp. He pushed forwards, into the gloom, into the rocky tunnel, kicking with his legs, pulling himself along with his hands. Ahead, more tunnel loomed. He crawled along, fingers numb, chest beginning to ache. Here, the tunnel was tight, even on his skinny frame, scraping his clothes. He flailed, fear rising, forcing himself through the tight confines. Now the pain in his chest was desperate, spasms running through his lungs, and still there was no surface in sight. He thrashed, a few bubbles escaping. He was going to die down here! He clawed at the sides of the tunnel, blood billowing into the water as he split a nail. He was going to die down here in the dark! Spinning, clawing, disorientated, he knew this was it. He gave a final, frantic thrash, grasping for something, anything that could save him. Then his desperately clawing hand broke the surface. Gasping, he erupted from the water, clinging to the edge for dear life, coughing violently. With great effort, he managed to pull himself half-out of the water, whole body trembling and wracked with coughs. He'd done it. He'd made it.

The dimly lit chamber swam in his vision, and gave way to blackness for a moment. Milo fought his way back to painful consciousness. No. He hadn't done it, not yet. There, in the centre of the room, surrounded by broken rocks and debris, stood a carved altar, a small stone bowl resting on a crudely hewn pillar. That was where he had to be, not here, lying on his side, panting like a dying fish.

Painfully, he pulled himself forwards. Standing was out of the question: it was all he could do to move his heavy body at all. He crawled, the jagged floor tearing the knees from his trousers, cutting his hands as he pulled himself along, focusing on one movement at a time. Abruptly, a pain ripped through him from the base of his gut up into his chest, strong enough to make him gasp. His stomach heaved again, and warm red blood spewed from his mouth, glistening on the wet rocks. Weird colours shimmered in front of his eyes again.

He fell at the base of the altar. It would be so easy to lie there, just for a minute, just until the pain faded. He couldn't allow himself that. That way lay death. Shaking, gasping, he pulled himself up, clutching the stone basin for support. There were two parts to the basin, although it was hard to get his mind to focus now: a main bowl, blackened with ash, with a thin furrow surrounding it.

"Fire and water…"

Holding himself up with one arm, he lifted the other, letting his sodden sleeve drip into the furrow, filling it up with shining water. His grip slipped as he did so, and he fell heavily onto his side. Something thick and salty was on his tongue. Coughing, he repeated the agonising process, dragging himself up again. His numb hand fumbled in his pocket, found the slippery metal of the match-case, pulled it open. He shook the contents out, all the matches spilling out into the blackened central hollow. His fingers barely obeyed him as he took a match from the pile, and struck it against the basin.

The match snapped.

Swearing, shaking, he grabbed another match, struck it again. This time, the match guttered into life. Milo dropped it into the rest. The phosphorous caught, the whole pile sparking into fitful, spitting life. Milo barely registered it. The world was a blur, the purplish shades of unconsciousness gathering at the corners of his vision. He fell to the floor, hardly feeling his head hit the ground, staring up at the distorted flames. Had it worked?

Above him, the flames began to die, the matches making poor fuel, the fire flaring up strong but brief. There was no sign of anything happening. No spirits. No flashing lights. Milo let his eyes close. Of course it hadn't worked. Had he really believed that he could just wave his hands, do some magic, and everything would suddenly be alright again? Had he really expect to summon up a spirit with stagnant water and a packet of matches?

This was it, he realised. This was where he died, alone in the dark. His friends were probably already dead: Audrey, Sweet, Vinny and Mole, taken by the Mortasheen, Kida and Obby torn to pieces by the Nuckelavee. In a way, it was almost a relief. There was nothing more he could do. He didn't have to fight any more.

He stopped fighting. He relaxed into the darkness, letting the pain fade, leaving his troubled thoughts behind.

Above him, the fire flickered out.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The Nuckelavee screamed at the sky, its body thrashing, hooves throwing up clouds of sand. Kida held tight to its body, one hand digging tight into its skinless flesh, the other holding onto a blood-slicked pickaxe. She didn't know if this beast, this demon, could be killed. She knew she probably wouldn't get the chance to find out. It didn't matter. All that mattered was hurting it, hurting badly, making it suffer for what it had done to her friends. For what it had done to her Milo.

The creature twisted sharply. Finally, Kida's grip slipaped. She fell, the world a blur of sand and sky, a sharp pain ripping up her arm as she scraped against the rocks, the breath pounded out of her as she hit the sand hard. She lifted her head, wiping a few strands of sweaty hair out of her eyes. Her arm burned: the barnacle studded rocks had torn through her shirt, taking a layer of skin along too. Above, the Nuckelavee loomed.

She reached behind her. Her fingers tightened around a jagged piece of stone. The creature was close now, so close that she was choking on the stench of its breath. She pulled herself up, fist clenching around her makeshift weapon, eyes glaring up. If this was how she met her end, so be it. She would go to her death like a true queen of Atlantis, dying in glorious battle. Somewhere in the distance, Obby whined. She gritted her teeth, coiled her arm, and prepared to make her final strike.

There was a sudden crash from behind her. She jerked her head around. Something came blasting out of the cave, throwing the rocks up in a hail of fragments. An icy wind blew past her, thick with freezing spray, and in the midst of the gale, squinting her eyes against the pelting mist, she could make out a vast indistinct shape, writhing and flowing like living water.

The Nuckelavee howled, stumbling back, rolling its huge head, stamping its vast hooves. Now Kida was on her knees, the freezing stream tearing at her clothes, whipping her hair around her face, stinging at her skin. In the haze, she could see something huge and formless, glistening like water in sunlight, go billowing past her. It unfurled, indistinct tendrils reaching out to envelope the bellowing demon. It was all Kida could do to keep her eyes open in the growing tempest, her clothes slicked to her skin, her hair plastered to her face. Now the Nuckleavee was just a huge shadow in the storm, its body wrapped tight in shining water, its hooves cutting trenches in the sand as it was pushed back, inexorably back, towards the ocean. She saw it go down, pushed down into the deep, hands clawing, huge head lingering for a moment above the surface. Then it was driven down, dragged down, with a bellow loud enough to shake the sand beneath her feet.

The blinding rush of spray stopped abruptly. Kida crawled to her feet, wet clothes tangling around her. Whimpering, Obby came scrambling over the sand, and curled into a ball beside her.

"Shh, Obby." She reached down, and patted his head. "I think it's going to be alright."

For a moment, the ocean was calm, the only motion the steely waves lapping at the shore. Then, erupting in a great torrent, turning the waves to churning white froth, the great indistinct shape rose out of the water, racing upwards until it was lost in the stormy sky. Abruptly, lightning streaked across the sky, followed by the deep, rumbling boom of thunder. Then, tumbling one after the other, splashing thickly into the sand, came fat, cold droplets of rain.

For the first time for many days, Kida shivered. The air was cold, wet, filled with the clean mineral smell of the ocean, filled with the smell of warm, wet earth. The great brooding clouds were finally letting down their rain, washing away the oppressive heat, washing the island clean again. Kida closed her eyes and leant her head back, letting the strange sky-water wash her sweaty, blood-streaked face, breathing in the sweet smell of the rain.

"You did it Milo!" She laughed. "You did it!"

* * *

Milo slowly surfaced from unconsciousness, awareness half-filtering back to him. For a moment, he lingered there, in the blissful limbo between sleep and wakefulness, feeling the warm softness surrounding his body. From somewhere, not that far away, he could hear voices. They filtered down into his mind without fully registering.

"So he will be alright, doctor?"

"Uh huh. He's just like the rest of us, absolutely fine now. The only thing wrong with him is good old-fashioned exhaustion. That and a few cuts and scrapes."

"Eh, he snores like my aunt Beryl."

Milo grunted, and shifted slightly, the soft chatter slowly pulling him back to wakefulness.

"He awakens!"

"Get out of his face, Mole. I don't think he wants to wake up to that."

"Milo? Milo, can you hear me?"

Curious, finally beginning to surface from sleep, Milo opened his eyes, blinking in the light. He squinted up at the blurry ceiling, and the fuzzy, indistinct face looming over him.

"K…Kida?"

A warm hand reached up, and stroked the hair out of his eyes.

"You're alright!" Kida's voice rang with happiness. "We were worried about you."

"Eh, speak for yourself." Vinny's voice came from off in the blurry distance. "The kid's tough. It'll take more than some hocus-pocus plague to finish him off."

Carefully, Milo shuffled into a sitting position, his ears ringing slightly as he lifted himself up. Other than that though…he felt good. The pain and weakness had gone, leaving behind nothing more than a vaguely shaky feeling.

"So, I did it? You're all alright now?" He said, squinting at the coloured blurs clustered around him.

"Uh huh. Right as rain. Us, Mavis, the kids, even the horses." Doctor Sweet said. A warm, dark blur of a hand passed Milo his glasses, which he fumbled onto his face. "I don't know what you did down there, but you're welcome to come and do it to some of my other patients sometime."

"We have been watching you sleep." Said Mole, with a wide grin.

Milo blinked the room into focus.

"You…you all stayed with me? How long was I out?"

"Only a few hours." Doctor Sweet patted him on the shoulder. "Kida carried you back here. Good thing you're so skinny, huh?"

Milo gazed up at Kida. She smiled down at him, her hair still damp and sticky, a dressing wrapped around one of her arms.

"You did? …Wow."

"Well…I dropped you a few times."

Audrey leaned forwards, and wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't you scare us like that again, okay?"

Doctor Sweet clapped his hands together.

"Alright you lot. Let's leave these two, and let them get some rest. I've got an island to see, now all my patients are better."

Milo led back, as they trooped out of the room, leaving him, Kida and Obby. The lava dog awkwardly heaved himself up and licked Milo's face, his sulphurous breath filling Milo's nose.

"Hey Obby. Who's a brave little lava dog, eh?" He said, patting his broad purple snout.

Kida smiled, and squeezed Milo's hand.

"He's not the only one."

"What? Me? That was nothing. You actually fought that thing. I just crawled around in a tunnel."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and moved to stand up. Kida gently pushed him back down.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Oh, it's okay. I feel great now, I really do. There's no need for me to stay here all day. We could go check on what everyone else is doing, or we could go for a walk along the coast again, or…"

His speech trailed off mid-sentence, as Kida gently brushed his damp hair from his eyes, and planted a warm kiss on his forehead.

"…Or, y'know, I guess we could stay here for a bit." He squeaked.


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Mavis Murrain stepped out of the old farmhouse door, breathing in the sweet salt tang of the sea. In the distance, the waves roared softly, throwing up white froth as they lapped against the cliff face. Beneath her feet, fresh green shoots of grass were springing up again.

Life on Stronsay was slowly getting back to normal, now that the plague had passed. The horses had recovered, and the unseasonable weather had cooled, leaving the air bright and fresh. Down on the beach, some of the menfolk where already working to fill in the kelp-burning pits, digging the old ash and pebbles until it was mixed into the surrounding sand, leaving barely a trace that they had ever been there. The last time she'd looked, that short, smelly little man from the mainland had been helping them, gleefully clawing at the sand with his bare hands, like an excitable dog.

The rest of the guests had spent their time exploring the island, enjoying the fresher weather the passing storm had left. Why, with the recovery of their horses, that skinny little man and his white-haired girlfriend had taken to riding, cantering up and down the rolling grass of the island, seemingly naturals in the saddle.

Ah, the guests from the mainland. Her Thomas had been right: they had stopped the sickness, and saved her children, and for that, she was immensely grateful.

Even if most of the good silver cutlery had gone missing.

Even if Beth's games of "princesses" had taken a rather grisly turn, as of late.

Even if there were teeth-marks (some of them human) all over her crockery.

Even if she'd been woken in the middle of the night by something that sounded suspiciously like a small explosion.

Mavis sighed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

Only two more days. Only two more days until the boat arrived.

"Hey mum!" Alistair's came running towards her, a smile on his face.

"Hello dear." She said with a smile.

"Look what I found behind the sofa!"

Mavis looked down. Held out in Alistair's eager little hands was a fat, red stick of dynamite.

It was going to be a very long two days.

* * *

_Good lord. I finished a fanfiction. (Whether it's a good fanfiction of not is another matter...)_

_I really enjoyed writing this, and have a few more ideas for some "Team Atlantis"-style stories._

_...Next time: vampires._


End file.
